No Rest For The Wicked
by AngeloftheOdd
Summary: Poor Kabuto is having a bad day.


**No Rest For the Wicked**

**By AngeloftheOdd**

**This one is dedicated to my best friend who shares my rather warped sense of humor, and, who has a wonderful obsession with mad scientists everywhere. Love ya, buddy.**

Kabuto's day was not exactly going as according to plan.

First, he had spilled a full bottle of ink all over the log books containing the data of Subjects One through Six. All that information now melded into one big indecipherable black blob.

Then, there had been the unfortunate mishap involving the scalpel that had snapped off in Subject Ten's sternum. Ever since he had taken up with Orochimaru, there were few willing to provide him with proper equipment. He had been reduced to scavenging on the sparse few fallen bodies of his fellow medical ninja. That is, until he had found that seedy little shop with its even seedier owner South of Konoha, that was willing to sell anything to anyone-no questions asked. Little doubt that's where this particular defunct scalpel had come from. He made a mental note to kill the shopkeeper the next time he was in the area.

Following that, Subject Twelve had earned the rather unpleasant title of Corpse Three. Kabuto was always disappointed with loss of life in his laboratory but never quite as disappointed as today, when, with his final breath Subject Twelve had released his bowels onto the bed. What a mess that had been. And antiseptic never really did cover up_ that _smell.

Topping it all off, he had slipped in a large pool of blood which had been collecting around the bed of Subject Nine. The handle of his glasses had snapped off during the fall. It had taken him nearly half an hour, groping around blindly, to finally find the repair kit and fix them.

Not to mention that all the screams and moans were really starting to grate on his nerves. These people were supposed to be the best ninja the surrounding villages had to offer. Suck it up.

For a man as bent on perfection as Kabuto, it was all really quite infuriating.

Midnight was approaching. That would mean that, soon, Orochimaru would be needing his usual dose. And, as luck would have it, hadn't Kabuto damn well misplaced it. He put his fingers to his temples, feeling the beginnings of one killer migraine. Better find that vial of medicine or he'd be facing a whole lot worse.

"Dr. Kabuto," a weak voice said. "Please...water...I need water..."

Why the hell was Patient Seven conscious? Patients, of course, was how he referred to these pathetic vermin when speaking to them directly. Calling them "Test Subjects" to their face, he had discovered, was not the best way to instill trust.

He poured a glass of water from the carafe which sat atop one of the steel gurneys. Better crush some extra sleeping pills into it this time. Normally, a dozen would be considered excessive. Kabuto figured that a man with two functioning hearts, such as the one that was now mewling and pleading for a drink, could probably withstand it. If he couldn't...Well, he'd deal with that later.

Right now the issue of finding Orochimaru's tonic was more pressing. How could he have been so careless as to lose something of such value to his Lord? The liquid was so pungent and foul-smelling he wondered why he couldn't just find it by odor alone. Frantically, he searched the laboratory. Behind the whirring respirators and heart-monitors. Under the bed-pans. He scanned his desk. Under the pile of research papers and countless scrolls. All in vain.

Oh, how he hoped it hadn't fallen in the trash bin. Rooting through the discarded, blood-soaked bandages, the severed body parts, or, worse yet, the soiled bedsheets, was just not an appealing thought at the present moment. Or at any moment, for that matter.

"Kabuto!" his master's voice summoned him from down the hall. "Where are you?"

"I'm coming, Lord Orochimaru," he shouted back. "Please just grant me a minute."

Not good. It would take him at least three hours to remake the tonic his Lord required to dull the pain of his decaying body. Orochimaru was not known for his patience.

"Now, Kabuto!"

Not good at all. Kabuto wondered what kind of punishment lay in wait for him when he informed his master that he had somehow lost his most vital medicine. Chains? Whips? Humiliation? Who was he kidding? With Orochimaru, that was a regular Saturday night. No, this time, Orochimaru might just flat-out kill him. Now that he thought about it, that actually might be slightly more preferable than having to face another day like this one.

Time to face the music.

He made his way to Orochimaru's chambers.

"You know how I hate to be kept waiting," the Snake Lord hissed. "What took you so long?"

"I..." Kabuto stammered. "I'm afraid I don't have your medicine with me..."

"Of course you don't. I came in earlier and took it from your stash. You were so busy with paper work that you didn't even notice me."

"Oh thank goodness."

Kabuto could feel his muscles starting to ache again as the adrenaline rush slowly melted away.

"I called you in here because I wanted to discuss something with you," Orochimaru said. "I've been thinking that perhaps you've been over-working yourself. When was the last time that you ate? Or slept? Maybe an assistant might be of some benefit to you."

"I'm grateful for your concern, My Lord. But you could never find another as devoted to you and your cause as much as I. How could I entrust someone else with such an important task?"

"As you wish, Kabuto. But, rest assured, that your services are most appreciated."

"Then it is all worthwhile, My Lord."

"You know, Kabuto," Orochimaru said. "Sometimes I really think that you are quite the masochist."

Kabuto cast a weary glance at his most beloved master.

"There's no rest for the wicked," he replied.


End file.
